Arrangements
by Lufia1
Summary: Sgt. Benton has a little talk with Prof. Cliff Jones regarding an upcoming event. Same universe as "Visitation."


Arrangements  
  
By Lufia  
  
Rated: PG for one word, and adult themes  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. If I did, then Benton and Jo would have been happily married, and Cliff Jones would have fallen off one defending them from the green maggots. That being said, enjoy the story!  
  
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The telephone call had been painfully short. Then again, Cliff Jones had never been one to carry on about things, Benton reflected as he settled the receiver back in its cradle. He sighed, glancing down at the sketchy lines he'd written during the conversation, if one could even call it that. Cliff had really just spelled out some instructions, and hung up. Benton picked up the notes, and lifted the receiver again, dialing up his solicitor.  
  
The meeting was even colder than the telephone call had been. Cliff sat in a leather-backed chair, his posture achingly straight, with his face set in a thin-lipped grimace. His solicitor was one of those crisp double- breasted suit types, the ones who always had the case file in the top compartment on their briefcase, and who could quote the past dozen or so year's worth of relevant cases from memory. He looked over at Benton with beady eyes, like a vulture, waiting patiently for its prey to just die so it could feed. Benton wasn't quite ready to kick the bucket.  
  
"I want custody," he said simply, not even looking to his own solicitor, a friend from school who'd gone on to university when he'd joined the army. "It's quite clear you don't. So, let me have it."  
  
Cliff's lips became even more compressed, and his forehead flushed. His solicitor glanced to Benton's and simply nodded.  
  
"Provided you agree to cut off all contact once the deal is completed," Cliff said suddenly. "I don't ever want to see this…this thing. Is that understood?"  
  
Benton shook his head. "That's not fair to Jo. She has a right you're neglecting."  
  
"And I have a right to my privacy, and the sanctity of my marriage," Cliff spat, his face growing even redder.  
  
Benton shifted in his own leather chair, preparing to rise, but his solicitor's hand on his shoulder stayed him.  
  
"How long a blackout period?" the solicitor asked.  
  
"Fifteen years. I don't want to deal with it until it's old enough to fend for itself."  
  
Benton's eyes widened. "Ludicrous. Five at the most. Early years are important to development."  
  
Cliff trembled, shaking his head violently. "Out of the question."  
  
"Ten," the solicitors chorused, each raising a single eyebrow at the statement.  
  
Benton nodded slowly. "On the birthday. Ten years exactly."  
  
Reluctantly, Cliff nodded as well. The solicitors smirked, then bent over the desk they were sharing, drafting the proper contract. Benton slumped down in his chair a bit. Well, he mused, ten years of not seeing Jo didn't mean he couldn't tell the child about its mother. And, it didn't mean that if Jo called him that he couldn't talk, did it? Only if Cliff found out, he decided. And they'd both be much more discreet, especially with the child to consider.  
  
"When is the baby due?" Benton asked, meeting Cliff's gaze and breaking the younger man's musings.  
  
"Within the next few weeks. I will notify you the moment she goes into labor. Once the thing is able to be removed from hospital, it becomes yours. I want it gone by the time I pick up Josie. I don't want to see it."  
  
"You will tell Jo about this arrangement." Benton didn't give him room to get out of this statement. "You can't not tell her."  
  
Cliff waved a hand annoyed. "Fine, fine. Graves, put that in the contract too, to make the bastard feel better."  
  
The beady-eyed man nodded, bending down to glance at the document again.  
  
Twenty minutes later, the contract had been typed up and signed by both parties and their solicitors. Benton left with his feeling somewhat disheartened.  
  
"That man's made of ice, John."  
  
Benton chuckled. "Funny you say that, Mick. Jo calls him "the Icicle" when referring to him."  
  
The solicitor, Mick, turned to John and looked at him, arms folded across his chest. "You know you can't talk to Jo anymore, John. Even calling her to say this kid's broken its arm and is in hospital violates the terms of the agreement."  
  
Benton winked. "Only if we get caught, Mick. And Jo's learned a few tricks for getting around the Icicle over the years."  
  
Mick only shook his head. "Any thoughts on names for this kid? That's your legal responsibility too."  
  
Benton shrugged. "I'm sure I'll think of something before the baby's born. Meantime, I do need to get shopping. I've got a room to refurbish within the week. Mike Yates is helping me with the construction side, but I've got to figure out what in the world to put in a baby's room that's decorative."  
  
"The wife might know," Mick suggested. "Give us a ring once the baby's born and you know the sex, and I'll have her take you to the shops."  
  
"Thanks, mate," Benton grinned. "Talk to you in a few days, then." 


End file.
